Monthly Archives: November 2010

The other day here, we linked to a video of The Danny Kaye Show from 1964. Every time I see one of these, I marvel at how talented that man was…and how we don't have that kind of variety show these days because we really don't have that kind of performer. Name me someone prominent of the current generation who could do a monologue, play characters in a sketch, sing a duet with some vocalist guest star and then perform a dance number with the chorus.

I'm not saying there's no one but certainly no one springs instantly to my mind. Most likely if such a person exists, they're known for only one of those skills — the one that brought them their fame — and to our surprise, they could actually handle the others. And they wouldn't even have to be that proficient in all those talents. Garry Moore, seen below, sure wasn't. But he could do a little of each and he had great connectivity as a host (the ability to connect with an audience) and he was apparently and happily deficient in Performers' Ego, meaning that he didn't mind if someone else on his show grabbed the spotlight. That's how Carol Burnett happened. Moore happily allowed a supporting player to outshine him.

True, the world and tastes in television have changed…but so has the talent pool. I was a writer on a batch of variety pilots and specials in the seventies and eighties, none of which starred someone who should really have been doing that. One critic, decrying the network's choice of star, had asked why they weren't instead bringing America the next Carol Burnett. Easy answer: They couldn't find her…or if they found her, they couldn't get her. (There was a brief moment when NBC wanted to star Gilda Radner in such a show but she declined.) Over the years, I have occasionally gone through meetings with stars who'd been proposed to star in variety shows. Here are three "blind" — meaning I'm not telling who they were — examples that reflect three reasons I've noted for the dearth of ideal variety show hosts…

Example #1 was a music superstar, at least if you define that term in number of records sold. This man had sold millions of them. A producer who thought the star could topline a weekly variety hour took me to his home to sell that premise and I, as the proposed Head Writer for such a program, laid out the format and some of the ideas I'd had. The star listened politely, laughed in all the right places, then asked the producer what kind of money he might make from such a gig and how much of his time it might require. The producer told him and the meeting was as good as over. "I make that in two nights in Vegas," the star said as modestly as anyone could say such a thing. The producer, treading water now, suggested that a weekly variety show would boost the star's fame and drive even more fans his way. The star, again with remarkable humility in his voice, pointed out that he already sold out every venue he played and asked, "Why would I want to work ten times as hard and give up most of those concerts to make one-fifth the money?" We couldn't answer that so we thanked him and left.

Example #2 was a musical act who'd had a few hits…and by a "few," I mean less than three. They were eager to star in a weekly, prime-time variety series but just talking to them in the conference room of the same producer as in Example #1, a problem was obvious: They couldn't talk. They could sing but if we'd wanted them to come out and just say, "Welcome to our show," we'd have had to put it on TelePrompter and cue cards, rehearse it for an hour and then tape it one word at a time and edit it all together. I'd done those shows and so had this producer…and complicating it was that the musical act had Managers (with a capital "M"). The Managers were sure the act would be the biggest thing since the Beatles — one even said that in those terms — and they weren't sure they wanted their Superstars of Mañana to be tied down to a weekly gig. They did, however, suggest that there were ways that would convince then…say, if they [The Managers] got to own the show, serve as Executive Producers and to book all the other acts they represented. The producer and I exchanged looks that suggested that meeting was effectively over and it was.

Example #3 was a comedian who very much wanted to do a show but wanted to know how I saw his role in it. How I saw it didn't sit well with him. It was as a host who served as the anchor and who reacted to funny guest stars and regulars much the way Jack Benny played off Dennis Day, Don Wilson, Mel Blanc and so on. The comedian had said Jack Benny was his idol but he told us flat out that if he was going to do a show that had his name in the title (The XXXX XXXXXX Show, which was the only title he'd accept) then he was going to be the funny one. I repeated myself about Benny and reminded him that Mary Tyler Moore let Ed Asner, Ted Knight, Betty White and Cloris Leachman be the funny ones, and how Andy Griffith let Don Knotts walk off with The Andy Griffith Show. "No one in television was ever more successful and beloved than Mary Tyler Moore and Andy Griffith," I noted. He didn't dispute my history lesson but said he would not do a show like that.

The moment I knew this meeting was over came when I said, "But if, let's say, we had Robin Williams as a guest star…" and the comedian said, "…then I'd damn well better get more laughs than he does." The producer in this case thought there was still a sale to be made so the project went forward…for about a week. That was how long it took the buyers at all three networks to say — and this is a quote from one of them — "Who'd want to watch a show starring that asshole?" I couldn't disagree a whole lot.

I have this odd idea in my head that variety shows are going to make a comeback one of these days. It'll take two things. One is, of course, an amazing star or stars. Just because that person/act isn't easy to name at the moment doesn't mean they aren't out there or on their way. The other requirement will be for someone to rethink the whole idea of a variety show and to reinvent the form…not in toto but the way shows like All in the Family and The Mary Tyler Moore Show reinvented sitcoms or the way Who Wants To Be a Millionaire? took prime-time game shows to a new level. This is not to say I think it's going to happen next year or the one thereafter. But it'll happen. In television, no good idea has ever gone away forever. Hell, we can't even get rid of the bad ones.

Do you own a piece of original artwork from MAD Magazine? No? Well, here's your chance. Their star caricaturist, Tom Richmond, is letting a number of pieces go at prices that, well…I like Tom a lot but I think he's really turned into one of The Usual Gang of Idiots. These are way underpriced…which is good for you. Hurry over to his sale and buy something before he wises up or, more likely, smarter people clean him out. This guy's real talented…and it's always fun to take advantage of someone else's mistake.

I have no information on when online ticket sales will resume for the Comic-Con International. I don't know. I don't know that they know at the moment. But these are real good folks running this operation and I'm sure they'll get this problem solved.

I mentioned in this post about the wonderful programming at the Aero Theater in Santa Monica, California. I should have also mentioned that the same folks program the Egyptian Theater up in Hollywood and they also have screenings of rare old films, often accompanied by interesting guests or panels. And I really should have linked you to the current scheduled for the Aero Theater and the Egyptian Theater. Note that next Sunday at the Aero, they're running Mr. Magoo's Christmas Carol and there will be a panel discussion with folks who worked on that landmark holiday special and Darrell Van Citters, who authored this fine book about the making of said special.

From a reader of this site who goes by the handle, Dubba-hugh…

On every other blog run by a professional writer, I've seen the answer to the meme, "When did you first know you were a writer?" So, Mr. Evanier, why are you holding out on us? When did you first know you were a writer?

Disbelieve it if you will but it was in Kindergarten. I began reading Dr. Seuss books at a very early age. I largely taught myself how to read (I have no idea how) from the output of the Good Doctor as well as piles and piles of comic books, mainly of the Dell funny animal variety. About the same time I was first enrolled in Kindergarten, I was taken to the first play I'd ever seen. There was an investment firm up on Wilshire near Highland that had a small theater. I think it seated around 35 people and on weekends, they had local actors come in and put on plays for kids…some kind of invitational perk for the families of employees or clients. My Aunt Dot and Uncle Aaron were investors there and they got us tickets. So one Saturday afternoon, my mother took me to see a presentation there — a stage adaptation of The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins that I don't think Dr. Seuss or his agents knew about. (Can you imagine? A real estate investment company doing something unethical? Good thing that doesn't happen these days.)

It was a perfect intro to theater for kids. Our visit started with some sort of director or instructor welcoming us individually and then because I was new to this, explaining what a play was and how I should sit still for it and not make a lot of noise…a lesson I wish they'd teach adults who go to the theater these days. Our welcomer also explained that Bartholomew Cubbins would be played by a girl and that this was a long-standing theatrical tradition, as in Peter Pan. Part of my job as a member of the audience was to pretend along with the actors on stage…in this case, to pretend that the girl was a boy. I didn't quite get why they didn't just get a boy to play a boy but it was no hardship to pretend. We then saw the play, which was the perfect length for a kid my age — about twenty minutes. I remember the lady playing a boy playing Bartholomew doing a deft little sleight-of-hand trick as she kept placing hat after hat (actually, the same ones over and over) on her head to simulate hat after hat appearing there.

I was quite smitten with that whole world and when I got home, I re-read and re-re-read the Seuss book. We always had a couple of his checked-out from the public library and my mother, wisely thinking I might want to contrast and compare, had made certain we had that one in the house that weekend.

The following Monday at school, we were given construction paper and crayons to draw on. I decided to write a book. In fact, the book that I decided to write was The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins. I began to write and illustrate my version of it from memory. When the allotted time for drawing ran out, the teacher saw what I was doing and encouraged me to continue while the other kids did other things. So I sat there another hour or so until I finished…and she was so amazed at what I had done that she sent my "book" up to the principal, who was equally impressed. The next day, I created my own version of another Seuss classic, Bartholomew and the Oobleck, which I had not seen on stage but had read about ninety times.

I would later learn that this was a great way to launch a career as a professional writer. Many successful authors got their start stealing from Dr. Seuss.

So much fuss and encouragement was made over my little construction-paper books and about some subsequent, wholly original ones, that I just kind of assumed, "Okay, this is what I'll do with my life." In later years as I proved to be utterly inept at anything involving physical skills or math, that decision was constantly reinforced. Being a writer seemed like a great idea if only by default. If I stood a chance of doing anything well enough to earn a living at it, it was that. Years later, I met a rather stunning fashion model and heard someone ask her why she got into that line of work. She said, "I looked in the mirror and decided the only thing I had going for myself was my looks…and besides, I really enjoyed it."

I kinda always felt that way about writing and never considered any alternatives. When friends of mine were fantasizing about being movie stars or Los Angeles Dodgers or the President of the United States, I would stick with my goal because it seemed quite satisfying and, perhaps as important, quite reachable. I've been at this for 41 years and so far, it seems to be working.